French For Beginners
by Aven
Summary: The sequel to "Talk Nerdy to Me" - Yay! Reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. Sleepless in Las Vegas

One

Oh, crap! I think I stepped in dog crap.

Another night, another trip outside with Henry. Honestly, can't the dog urinate by himself? Don't I make him uncomfortable, hovering over him like an impatient vulture? Apparently not, because every night for the past two weeks, I've had to wake up and take the lovable mutt out. I guess it beats cleaning up a nasty little surprise in the morning.

Greg would do it – and he _should_ do it – but I feel guilty about bothering his peaceful slumber over something as trivial as the dog's full bladder. He's been nothing but stressed for the past month, all because of his new position at the crime lab. He desperately wanted to work out in the field, but now that his wish has come true, he's regretting it.

"This is starting to get to me, Matilda," he would whine. "When I was in the lab, I didn't have to see the victims and interact with real people. Now _everything_ is my responsibility."

I had to sympathize with him, but only to a certain extent. I was in the same position as Greg, even though I wasn't dealing with dead bodies and grieving families. Oh no, I was dealing with something much worse: Missy. Since returning to my secretary job, she has been a royal pain in the ass, showering me with both affection and a heavy workload. She'll give me a big hug every morning and be extra nice to me, but only because she has an ulterior motive.

"Matilda, sweetheart," she would commonly say. "You're looking beautiful today. Could you file these reports, answer the phone, and deliver these messages? Thank you darling!"

Blah. It was bad enough that she scratched me with her long red fingernails every time we exchanged papers. Now she was treating me like a workhorse. Ordinarily, I wouldn't let someone walk all over me, but there wasn't much I could do. After all, she is my boss.

My only refuge has been Greg: seeing him at the end of the workday and knowing that we can go home and sleep in _our_ bed, cowboy sheets and all. After the whole Roger ordeal, Greg could be nothing but a complete gentleman to me, escorting me to my car every evening, opening the door, taking care of me when we got home. It was perfect. But as time went on, his considerate attitude wore off and he became a walking zombie. Needless to say, we had little romance in our lives.

I can't blame Greg for acting how he is, though. Grissom is working him like a dog, giving him one huge and challenging case after another. Greg tries to shrug it off, and just says that Grissom is testing him. Still I can't help but wonder if Grissom is testing his investigating skills or his breaking point. I'm sure I have been no Suzy Sunshine either, what with the boss from hell and late night poop breaks with a canine companion.

I waited for Henry to finish his business and stumbled back into the apartment, throwing the dog's leash onto the couch. The bedroom was dark, but I knew my way around well enough to not stub my toe on a piece of furniture. I saw Greg's long figure spread out on the bed, his chest and stomach slowing moving up and down with each breath. Cracking a little smile, I flopped into my spot next to him and elbowed him in the side.

"What?" he asked groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Did the dog poop inside again?"

"No," I answered with a bit of annoyance. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" Greg wondered, finally finding the energy to roll onto his side and face me, resting his head in his hand.

"We should go on a vacation," I said matter-of-factly. Despite the poor lighting in the room, I could tell that Greg was looking at me like I had three heads. Vacation was a big step in a relationship – it was _so_ senior citizen, like "let's go to Florida and wait to die!"

"_Vacation_?" he repeated, as if he had never heard the word before. "Where is this coming from?"

"Oh don't be stupid, Greg. You and I both know that we are being seriously overworked. Even losers like us need a break every now and then." He smiled at my loser reference; Greg and I took great pride in being the coolest nerds in all of Las Vegas.

"I don't have time for a vacation," he reminded me of his full schedule, listing all of his assignments and duties.

"People who say that they don't have time are the ones who need a vacation the most!" I responded, trying to reason with him. What kind of guy doesn't want to leave work and go somewhere private and romantic with his girlfriend?

"Who told you that?" he questioned me. "Oprah?" I rolled my eyes at the Oprah reference and jabbed him in the ribs. So what if I owned the official Oprah workout gear? I'm _not_ obsessed – I swear I'm not. Okay, maybe a little….

Hmmm….maybe a little flattery would change his mind.

"Greg, you have been doing an amazing job at the crime lab," I began. "Everybody knows that you have been working your butt off – including Grissom. I'm sure he won't have a problem with giving you a well deserved vacation."

I wrapped my arms around his body and buried my face into his chest, whispering a muffled "please" into his t-shirt until he said yes. If I was anything at all, I was persistent.

"Okay, okay!" he finally gave in, and I jumped up in glee, planting a whopper of a kiss on his cheek.

Now we just need to figure out where to go….


	2. Le Greg

Two

I fidgeted at my desk all day, tapping my foot frantically and twirling my pencil like a ditzy school girl. Of course I _always_ looked forward to the end of the work day (who doesn't?), but today was extra special. Since the night I had talked Greg into taking a vacation, he had been a tornado of energy and enthusiasm. When we weren't going through travel pamphlets that we had sent away for, we were surfing the web for cheap tickets. When I said vacation, I meant maybe a little three day excursion into the mountains where the two of us could be alone. Greg, however, was much more ambitious, and today was the day when all his hard work would pay off.

"Bonjour, madam!" I had been preoccupied at my work station, busily cleaning up discarded staples before Missy saw them, so I didn't see him approach. But you'd better believe that I _heard_ him, what with that obnoxious French accent and snooty laugh.

I looked up to see Greg smiling down at me, a black beret atop his spiky hair and a fake mustache taped above his upper lip. I giggled and jumped up from my chair, my butt having left an indentation in the leather. How sad: I had been sitting there so long, I had formed an ass groove. I tried to give Greg a soft kiss on the lips, but that damn mustache kept tickling my nose. Making an executive decision, I reached for the fake patch of hair and yanked it off, hearing the tape peal off of Greg's skin.

"Ouch!" he said, rubbing his now red upper lip.

"Oh, sorry baby," I said mockingly, acting like a caring mother to a sick child. I planted a kiss on his upper lip, hoping it would make him feel better. Judging from his smile, I think it did.

"Now I don't look French," he whined, sticking out his bottom lip.

"You never looked French, Greg," I assured him. "You just looked stupid." He grinned and took off his beret, dropping it onto my head.

"Aren't you going to ask me what this is all about?" he questioned me. I could tell by the way he swayed back and forth that he was anxious to share his news. Whenever he had good news, especially involving a case at the lab, he would do a nervous jig like little kids that have to pee.

"Okay – what's this all about?" I repeated him, leaning against my desk. He smiled, feeling successful now that he had my attention.

"Well, my fair mademoiselle," he began, the French inflection seeping back into his voice. "You and I are going to France."

I must have stared at him for ten minutes, my jaw down on the floor in amazement. I couldn't think straight! Me? Us? Paris? Really? On your salary? On _my_ salary? How freakin' romantic! I had so many questions to ask at once, and all of them wanted to escape my mouth. How ironic, then, that I was completely speechless.

"Well, what do ya think?" Greg asked, trying to read my expression.

"Is this a joke?" Knowing Greg, I couldn't help but wonder if this was just another great scheme of his.

"No, not at all," he responded, suddenly getting serious. The grin left his face, and a look of hurt filled his eyes. God, I was such a jerk. Greg does something great – even amazing – for me, and I accuse him of having an ulterior motive.

"Sorry," I apologized. "I just had to make sure. I mean, _France_?! Greg, I thought a vacation would do both of us good, but this is _huge_! You really didn't have to go this far."

"Nah, it's no problem," he brushed my comments off like he had just bought me nothing more than a mere Snickers bar – though I rarely find any Snickers bar to be mere. Yum.

"I've wanted to go to France forever," he continued. "When you mentioned a vacation, this is the first place I thought of."

"Can you afford this?" After seeing Greg's apartment for the first time, I had been curious as to how large the gap in our salaries was. Now I know for sure that it's an enormous difference.

"Of course," he reassured me. "All I had to do was sell my ultra rare 'Star Trek' collectibles." I smiled, knowing that Greg wouldn't be caught dead with any sort of "Star Trek" memorabilia; he was a "Star Wars" fan all the way.

I suppressed the rest of my inquiries, knowing that now was not the time to question Greg but rather to thank him shamelessly. After showering him with kisses (and whispering a few sweet nothings in his ear), I made my rounds in the lab, bragging to everyone. Normally, I wouldn't be the kind of girl to rub other people's noses in my good fortune, but this was an exception. I had never been out of the country before; I didn't even have a passport! Yet now, not only was I going to one of the most romantic places in the world, but I was going with my wonderful, funny, smart, obviously well paid boyfriend.

Nothing could go wrong…


	3. Disclaimer

Hey everybody! Long time, no write. Anywho, I've realized that I've been getting a lot of reviews lately and I just wanted to tell everyone how flattered I am that you all like my story. Really, I just started doing this for fun. I had no idea that so many people would actually read my work! So I bet you're wondering where I've been, huh? Well, truth is, my infatuation with both Greg and "CSI" has lessened in the past months, and I have simply not been inspired enough to continue work on my sequel. Besides, the sequel was a mess anyway. The plot was lame, and it was going no where fast, so I think I am going to delete it anyway. But if enough people send me messages, and really want me to start a new sequel, then I will do so. Anything for my beloved fans. Okay, enough blabbering! Thanks again!

-Aven-


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